Souls and Stardust
by The Chainsaw Juliet
Summary: What happens to a heart after it has taken all the damage it can bear? A Reaper's journey to discover her own most beautiful death. William/Grell unrequited, Grell/Angelina, mentions of Eric/Alan.
1. Prelude

It wasn't that she had wished Death on them because she'd never wished that on any Reaper. Wish or not, Death had visited them and now here she was in hallowed marble and stained glass, weeping over their untimely departure.

It wasn't that she had meant to betray them, but dear Sebastian had so very cleverly enticed her to lend him a hand. A night out on the town, carving open bodies and tugging at bloodied records, with the man of her fantasies by her side.

It wasn't that she had anything against them, for they were good colleagues. Eric with his rolling Scottish brogue and the ability to switch to purring Italian and make knees weak. Eric with his handsome, rugged looks that betrayed just how soft and gentle he could be to those whom he cared for. Eric who was the perfect Field partner and the only man she would want by her side in melees.

And then there was Alan, dear Alan, who was soft and gentle outwardly but had a fiery temper Grell found ever so darling. He was prim and proper but passionate too; good with reports and smoothing over the intricacies of Division code.

Dear Alan with his inky black Thorns clawing their way to his heart, being eaten alive because he had dared to hesitate and feel empathy for his victim. To save him, Eric betrayed all his principles and broke Division code, killing innocent people to reap their pure souls.

A cruel twist of fate had seen the older of the pair cut down his own lover and too broken to continue he submitted himself to the Devil in order to join his beloved in Death.

Grell's lip trembled and she bit back another sob, dabbing at her eyes with her kerchief and trying not to make a fool of herself during their service.

It wasn't that she was jealous of their love, knowing she'd never have anything so selfless, so passionate, so true...but with a sinking feeling in her heart she realized it was just that after all.


	2. Damascus Roses

It was St. Valentine's Day and Grell was trying to make herself as scarce as possible. It was the one day in the year where her loneliness and lack of partner was undeniable. Though she wasn't the only one in the Division without a significant other, she happened to be the only one who openly pursued a partner every single day despite the open rejections. St. Valentine's Day made her feel _embarrassed_ and that was a feeling she would rather do without.

But it couldn't be helped today, no not today, since lonely mortals found St. Valentine's Day the perfect day to end their lives and thus generated a lot of fuss and bother for the Reapers of London- perhaps the Reapers of the world over.

Grell sighed, chin in her palms and elbows on her desk as she waited for her List to be approved and distributed by her boss and the object of her denied affections. In her daydreaming she failed to notice the Reaper at her side until lips pressed a warm kiss to her cheek.

"Happy Valentine's Day," Ronald chirruped, holding out a bouquet of pink roses mottled with red "for my favourite spinster sibling!" Grell's eyes widened and she snatched the bouquet, cheeks aflame.  
>"I'll have your head for that, Ronald!" She shrieked, about to launch herself at him as he jumped back with a laugh.<p>

"_Sutcliff."_ That voice, oh that _voice_. Grell sat up straighter, looking over her shoulder.  
>"Yes William my darling?" The man only rolled his eyes, thrusting a folder at her.<br>"Your List for today. Agent Knox if you have already completed your assigned deaths I will be more than happy to allocate more to keep you busy." Behind him Ronald froze, losing his teasing grin.  
>"No sir, right away sir, going now-" but not before he gave Grell a cheeky wink.<p>

* * *

><p>Despite his teasing, Grell was grateful for Ronald spoiling her this year. Ronald was a rascal through and through, but he also treated Grell like family- something she had never experienced and now never took for granted. She hugged the bouquet close, burying her nose in the red splattered pink petals and inhaling deeply. They smelled heavy and sickly sweet, enticing a soft smile from her as she admired their form. She wondered if there was a way the heaviness of its scent could be bottled and used to forget everything.<p>

Absently toying with the velvety petals, Grell stopped in front of her favourite apothecary to see if they had any new wares for her beauty regime.

_Damascus Rose Oil: the perfect lady's accompaniment for clean, soft skin- use every night after washing before bed. Can also be used to ease heart and lung problems, and a tonic for the stomach. Is there a more beautiful way to stay healthy?_

Grell touched the poster with a sad smile. If only she could ingest a bottle and have it cure her aching heart. She shook her head, chastising her fanciful thoughts and continuing on her walk to her first victim. The sooner she completed her assigned deaths, the sooner she could go home and escape the blasted holiday.

The roses in her arms were a problem, however, and Grell was too far from home to drop them off. She was, she noticed, close to the Churchyard where her beloved Madam lay. Who better to receive a bouquet of roses than her Madam? Having made up her mind, Grell took a quick detour from her planned path and made her way to the Undertaker's realm.

She had expected the Undertaker to be there, leisurely ghosting by his 'children's' graves or talking to the grieving family of his latest customer. She had not expected the Phantomhive boy to be there with his butler. Her heart skipped a beat when she saw Sebastian standing a polite distance away, a stroke of midnight in broad daylight, his black uniform handsomely pressed and prim.

Another man who denied her affections openly, though Grell never hoped to succeed with Sebastian. The chase was what she loved the most, and if he caved in to her advances the illusion would be shattered.

Her eyes fell on the boy once more and a surge of anger flooded her veins. It was because of _him_ that her colleagues died. It was because of _him_ that her Madam faltered and betrayed her. How she wished she could cut him up and spill his red ribbons all over her grave and paint her the colour they so adored.

"Ciel Phantomhive." She spat the name out like something foul. He looked up, thick red roses in his arms he was preparing to lay down on his aunt's grave.

"Grell Sutcliff." Behind him, Sebastian took a step forward. Grell threw the roses down and reached for her Deathscythe, swinging it at Ciel's neck. In a flash Sebastian snatched Ciel's cane, parrying the blow.

"The young Master is here visiting his aunt. It would do well to wait your turn, Mr Grell." Sebastian offered politely, discarding the now severed cane in favour of his famed silver cutlery.

"If it weren't for him she wouldn't be buried there!" She shouted, swinging wildly.

"You are mistaken," the butler corrected, "if it were not for _you_ she would not be buried there." At his words she shrieked in fury and doubled the ferocity of her attacks. Rage clouding her judgement and tears dotting her eyes, it only took Sebastian a moment to disarm her. In one swift move he swept the chainsaw across and sliced through cloth, flesh and bone.

Crumpling atop her beloved's grave, Grell could do little but choke on her blood and watch them walk away. She lost consciousness amongst the lingering scent of Damascus roses.


	3. Laudanum

Everything was white when she opened her eyes, a blinding, hot white. The Infirmary, she realized once consciousness allowed her to piece together her thoughts. Blinking awake, she tried to give her eyes time to grow accustomed to the glaring lights in her room. A moment later and her body realized it was still hurt, shooting pain throughout her torso and racing up her spine so fast a strangled cry left her throat.

"Ah lad, you've really done it this time." Scottish, just like Eric, Grell thought in her pained daze.

"Dr Charlie…" She tried to lift her hand towards the splotches of colour hovering over her.

"Gone and gotten yourself sliced up with your own Deathscythe!" He sighed, patting her hand. "Your healing is going to be a long, slow process I'm afraid, laddie." She bit her lip, brows creasing.

"My chest feels like it's on fire."

"Aye. It was a right royal mess to clean up and stitch together I'll have you know." His voice was gruff but his tone gentle, the way one might speak to a child. And since Grell had found herself a regular at the Infirmary due to her wild nature, she saw him as somewhat of an Uncle.

"Charlie do you have anything-?"

"Here." He propped pillows behind her back, helping her sit up before resting the cold rim of a glass to her lips. "Drink this." The sharp scent of citrus was drowned by the sharp spread of bitterness on her tongue and she recoiled.

"The day they figure out how to flavour Laudanum, I'll serve you that instead." Charlie chuckled, coaxing her to finish the glass. Grell winced and obediently drank the Laudanum-laced orange juice. The doctor set the glass aside and tugged the covers over Grell's lap.

"Now rest up, laddie. Your boss has been asking for you, so I'll send him in shortly." She nodded at that, trying to hide the brief spark of hope at the thought that William had wanted her company. Quickly she reached up, ignoring the weight and sluggishness in her arms, and tried to tidy her appearance. Smoothing down her hair she hoped it looked presentable and wished she had her little kit to touch up her makeup.

"Sutcliff."

"Willia~m!" She sang sweetly, smiling brightly in his direction. Her vision suddenly sharpened as he slid her glasses back onto her face. The sight of him so close made her blush thickly and she offered a shyer smile.

"You provoked that Demon again, did you not?" William cleared his throat, taking a seat by the hospital bed and opening his ledger on his lap.

"Straight to business," she sighed, "that's my William. No 'oh Grell I was ever so concerned about your health', no 'Grell I do hope you are feeling well'."

"Answer my question, Sutcliff, so I can write a report and leave you to recover."

"I'd rather you not leave me to recover alone." She hadn't meant to say it aloud, her voice soft and hurt. A wave of silence washed between them, lapping at their thoughts.

"I am a busy man and I have no time for incompetent colleagues who insist on throwing themselves into harmful situations and thus wasting company time." Curt and cut straight to the bone, Grell mused.

"I didn't want to go home to drop my roses off because it would've made me late for the first death, so I decided to place them on Madam's grave. That _brat_ was there with dear Sebby and I just-" Grell closed her eyes, "I just lost control. I was so angry at him and all I could think about were the funerals and-"

"Enough." Another sigh as he massaged the bridge of his nose to relieve the tension building. "It was still an unprovoked attack. Now, Doctor Charles Farrough oversaw your surgery and he will continue to supervise your recovery and keep me updated. As you know, our bodies are not impervious to Deathscythe steel so recovery will be slow."

"Will you visit me?"

"You will have paperwork to complete, so yes I will visit or send Agent Knox to deliver it on my behalf."

"So you _do_ care." A small smile. It didn't impress her superior, who merely cocked a brow and adjusted his glasses.

"I will leave you to rest." He closed his ledger and stood, brushing creases from his uniform. She reached for his wrist.

"Please stay, even for a little while." William tugged his hand free and Grell took it as her cue to look away. "Can you please ask Charlie for another dose of Laudanum? My chest really hurts."

"I shall." He nodded politely and left.

For pity's sake, the good doctor left the bottle within reach on the table.


End file.
